The crystal shards slipped slowly down her cheeks as she stared down at his peaceful face.
He was hardly ever peaceful. He was constantly pacing or talking or worrying about something. The only time she ever saw him at ease was when he slept.
Now, she reached out and touched his face, feeling the contours of his cheekbones and the curves of his lips. Lips where no breath ever escaped, because her lover was not living.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, she fell back beside him, closing her eyes and trying to forget. She just wanted to forget how the world worked and why she could never truly have forever with the one she loved.
"Why?" she sobbed to herself, choking on her tears. "Why did we have to be so different?"
He stirred beside her as though he could sense the change taking place in her heart. Now, gazing at his visage, she could see that the peace had vanished and she felt guilty.
What right did she have to walk into his life and take everything away? For when he lived for just one of her smiles, he had truly given up everything else. When he would give her the world at a word from her lips, he truly cared about nothing else. IF she had wanted him to, he would have worshiped her on bended knee. He was her willing slave and somewhere deep down they both knew it.
The darkness shifted now, even as the feelings in her heart began to shift. It wasn't that she didn't' love him or even that she loved him less, but more like her love had deepened, become strong enough for her to think more about him than about herself.
In the future, when age had creased her flawless skin and turned her golden hair grey, he would realize that she would soon be gone. His lively Slayer had slowly wilted and soon she would leave forever. He would no longer look at her and be enthralled, but he would look at her and be repulsed.
As she progressed through her life, he would begin to see age stake its claim on her. She would no longer be the same lithe, strong, agile Slayer she had once been.
If she even lived that long . . .
Getting smoothly to her feet, she slid into her skirt and top. He stirred behind her, groggily murmured her name.
She felt the tears prick her eyes and cursed her own weakness as she turned to look at him.
His blond hair was messy and wild, and she smiled slightly as she knelt beside him to smooth it down. She could barely see him through the tears in her eyes, but she took one last long look into his, trying to see right down into his soul, and whispered, "I love you, Spike."
Before the door closed behind her, she heard his muffled, slightly shocked reply:
"I love you, too, Buffy."
He was hardly ever peaceful. He was constantly pacing or talking or worrying about something. The only time she ever saw him at ease was when he slept.
Now, she reached out and touched his face, feeling the contours of his cheekbones and the curves of his lips. Lips where no breath ever escaped, because her lover was not living.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, she fell back beside him, closing her eyes and trying to forget. She just wanted to forget how the world worked and why she could never truly have forever with the one she loved.
"Why?" she sobbed to herself, choking on her tears. "Why did we have to be so different?"
He stirred beside her as though he could sense the change taking place in her heart. Now, gazing at his visage, she could see that the peace had vanished and she felt guilty.
What right did she have to walk into his life and take everything away? For when he lived for just one of her smiles, he had truly given up everything else. When he would give her the world at a word from her lips, he truly cared about nothing else. IF she had wanted him to, he would have worshiped her on bended knee. He was her willing slave and somewhere deep down they both knew it.
The darkness shifted now, even as the feelings in her heart began to shift. It wasn't that she didn't' love him or even that she loved him less, but more like her love had deepened, become strong enough for her to think more about him than about herself.
In the future, when age had creased her flawless skin and turned her golden hair grey, he would realize that she would soon be gone. His lively Slayer had slowly wilted and soon she would leave forever. He would no longer look at her and be enthralled, but he would look at her and be repulsed.
As she progressed through her life, he would begin to see age stake its claim on her. She would no longer be the same lithe, strong, agile Slayer she had once been.
If she even lived that long . . .
Getting smoothly to her feet, she slid into her skirt and top. He stirred behind her, groggily murmured her name.
She felt the tears prick her eyes and cursed her own weakness as she turned to look at him.
His blond hair was messy and wild, and she smiled slightly as she knelt beside him to smooth it down. She could barely see him through the tears in her eyes, but she took one last long look into his, trying to see right down into his soul, and whispered, "I love you, Spike."
Before the door closed behind her, she heard his muffled, slightly shocked reply:
"I love you, too, Buffy."